Objects in the Rear-View Mirror
by patientalien
Summary: Lucas recounts the death of his younger brother.


_Lucas Wolenczak, Nathan Bridger, and other characters and settings from the seaQuest universe are the property of Amblin and Universal Entertainment and are being used for entertainment only. _

* * *

> It was that time of year again. Lucas Wolenczak had been preparing for it for about a week, trying to build up his emotional strength for what he knew lay ahead. He had cut himself off from the world outside his cramped room on the seaQuest, and wouldn't come out, even when threatened with physical removal by Crocker. There was no way he could show the others what pain he was in. They had to think he was perfect, maybe even not quite human. Lucas prided himself on his ability to keep his emotions locked deep inside, condensing all his anger and fear and frustration into a bitter little ball. When that terrible ball inside him escaped, as it sometimes did, it always made Lucas feel like he was losing his mind. 
> 
> Things were especially bad when it was this time of year. It was worse than having to spend major holidays alone, it was worse that not being able to go on shore leave for one reason or another, and it was ten times worse than any other of Lucas' laspes of cool-headedness. 
> 
> Nobody on seaQuest knew about this time of year, so it came as a surprise to his friends when Lucas locked himself in his room for a week, refusing to talk to anyone. Many times, Ben Krieg had tried reasoning with the teen through the door, promising him an unchaperoned shore leave (though Lucas was sure that would not go over well with the captain), telling the dirtiest jokes he could think of - anything to get Lucas out of his room. To no avail. Lucas' door remained shut, and his stereo remained loud enough to cause ear damage to those not used to that sort of thing. 
> 
> Lucas was sitting on his bunk, leaning the side of his head against the cool glass of the aqua tunnel above his bed, looking at the photographs taped to the part of the tube that passed his pillow. Most of them were pictures of his friends from Stanford: a beer can pyramid on the front lawn of the Sigma Alpha frat house, an aeral view of the quad from atop the clock tower standing in the center of the campus, a group picture of his senior chemistry class, several of him and his friends caught in the act of some pranks or other barely legal activites, and on of him and his then-girlfriend Kaylin, smiling brightly, her arm around his waist, her hand in his back pocket. These images brought a tentative smile to his face. It was the rest of the phots on the tube that upset him. 
> 
> * * *
> 
> The kid couldn't have been more than five years old, riding on a mechanical horse - the kind that is sometimes found outside department stores, beaming from ear to ear. He was wearing sweat pants and a heavy winter jacket; snow was already falling in Buffalo, though it was only November. Lucas let out a soft sigh, and gently traced the boy's outline with a finger. "I'm so sorry, Parker," he said quietly, trying to ignore the tears threatening to overflow. "I'm so sorry." 
> 
> Lucas didn't even look up when he heard the hatch open. He knew somebody was going to pick the lock sooner or later, but that didn't mean he planned on talking to whoever had chose to enter his dominion of solitude. "Go away," he told the intruder, not caring at all who it was he was addressing. 
> 
> "Not until you talk to me." Lucas groaned and rolled his eyes. It was Captain Bridger, and Lucas knew he wouldn't get out of this one easily. "I've let it slide until now," Bridger said hesitantly, putting a hand on Lucas' shoulder. Lucas gasped slightly and pulled away before Bridger could fully understand that Lucas had let his guard down for a moment. "But now I think it's time we had a talk." 
> 
> "Then talk," Lucas snapped before he even realized what he was saying. He crossed his arms over his chest and slouched down, not looking at Bridger. Bridger recognized Lucas' actions as the teen's automatic defense mechanism. Bridger tightened his grip on Lucas' arm and turned him around. 
> 
> "What's going on?" Bridger asked once he had determined he had Lucas' full attention. "How can I help if I don't know what's wrong?" 
> 
> "Nothing's wrong," Lucas replied, his mind slamming into a steel-reinforced lock-down. "Why is it that every time I want some privacy, somebody is bound and determined to make it seem like a big deal?" He pushed his hand through his hair and shook his head. 
> 
> Bridger counted slowly to ten, knowing that if he got upset, than there would be no second chance to find out what was bothering Lucas. "Because it is a big deal when you lock yourself in your room for a week," Bridger replied, trying to sound parental, but not too scolding. "Whatever the reason, what you're doing is unhealthy, and I can't let you go about being self-destructive - as much as you might want me to." 
> 
> Lucas frowned, and gave Bridger a *look*. The same look he used to give his mother's boyfriends, only this time it was laced with a venom that Bridger had never seen exhibited in the teen. "Why won't you just leave me alone?" Lucas demanded harshly. "There is nothing to talk about. I just... don't want to be around people right now." 
> 
> Bridger shook his head. "There is something to talk about," he replied. "And neither one of us is leaving this room until you 'fess up." He gave Lucas his most parent/captain look, and let Lucas' conscience do the rest. 
> 
> Lucas stayed silent for a long time, looking all around his room - anything to avoid making eye contact with Bridger. His gaze finally came to rest on the photo of Parker, and something pried open the lock-down. "He was only five," Lucas said softly. 
> 
> "Who?" Bridger asked, knowing that he couldn't lose track of Lucas' thought-processes, lest the teen shut him out again. 
> 
> "Parker." Lucas replied, barely audible. "He was my younger brother. He.. ah.. he died two years ago." Lucas wrapped his arms around his knees and sat there, eyes brimming with unshed tears. Bridger's expression softened in empathy, and he rubbed Lucas' back. "And you want to know the worst part?" Lucas asked, turning to him. Bridger, saying nothing (and not knowing what to say anyway,) nodded. "The worst part is that I killed him." 
> 
> Bridger tried to keep the suprise off of his face and out of his voice as he awkwardly tried to sympathize with his friend. "That can't be true, Kiddo," Bridger said solemnly, hoping he was right and Lucas was wrong. But, like so many other things regarding his past, Lucas could either be incredibly evasive or painfully honest. This seemed to belong in the "painfully honest" category. 
> 
> Lucas looked down at his sneakers and didn't speak for a moment, struggling to hold in the tears that had been waiting to fall for two years. "Well, it is," he answered, not looking up. 
> 
> When it became clear Lucas would say no more unless prompted, Bridger reached over and pulled the teen into a tight embrace. He felt Lucas' slim body stiffen defensively, but kept his grip. Bridger knew Lucas hated physical contact of any kind, but he also knew it was one thing the teen needed from time to time. "You know, Lucas," Bridger began softly, unsure he would be able to talk about this particular subject for too long. "When Carol died, I blamed myself for years. I still blame myself for Robert's disappearence. Even though I know there was nothing I could do about it, I still feel guilty. That's the reason I went into hiding on my island. To escape from myself and my guilt." Bridger looked at Lucas, trying to gauge his reaction. "The point is," he continued when Lucas gave no response, "what I did was not a good coping mechanism. I thought I could shut myself up from the outside world and everything would be okay." 
> 
> Lucas nodded tightly, if only to show Bridger he was paying attention. "That's the thing," he said, finally giving up struggling again Bridger's arms. "I didn't shut myself away, my parents did. It's not like we got along in the first place, but after Parker died..." Lucas let out a trembly, teary sigh. "I could see it in their eyes. They hate me because I killed their precious baby." Lucas looked up at Bridger, his expression one of bitter anger coupled with a crippling dispair. "I was an accident," he finally admitted. "Parker wasn't. Parker was what they wanted in a child. I wasn't. They'd send me to boarding schools and college just to get me out of their sight. So they could pay attention to Parker." 
> 
> Bridger's heart felt like it was being torn out of his chest as Lucas talked. "You were not an accident," Bridger insisted. "Not in my book - or anyone else's on this boat." There was a suffocating silence for three long minutes while Lucas seemed to take in what Bridger had said. "And no matter how Parker died, it wasn't your fault." 
> 
> Lucas let out a bitter laugh. "You wouldn't say that if you knew what happened," he said coldly. 
> 
> Bridger had a feeling Lucas was pleading for him to ask exactly what had happened. Bridger knew Lucas hated to ask for things; rather, he skirted the issue until Bridger caught on to what it was Lucas wanted. "What happened?" he asked. 
> 
> Lucas took a deep breath, and counted to ten, formulating what he would say. "I was home," he began. "Well, my mom's house. Anyway... She left to go to some seminar or health spa or meet her latest boyfriend or something... and she told me to watch Parker." He paused for a moment. "He wanted to play catch outside..." 
> 
> "And?" Bridger asked gently. 
> 
> "So we did," Lucas continued. "We played for a little while, and he was doing pretty good for a five year old. But then I threw the ball a little too far and it landed in the street." Another pause. "My parents never went over road safty rules with him. He ran out into the street and... well, I didn't see the car until it hit him. The doctors said he died instantly 'cause it was a major head trauma and his body just... stopped working." Lucas wiped a stray tear off his cheek, and looked up at Bridger. "After that, my parents hardly talked to me, and when they did, it was to blame me. Told me I should have been the one... I tried to fix that for them. Because they were right. I should have been the one." Lucas slowly pushed up his sleeves and held his wrists out to Bridger for inspection. "All that got me was a one-way ticket to the seaQuest." 
> 
> Bridger was silent for a long time, absorbing Lucas' story. After a minute or two, the tears finally began to fall, completely silent. "Lucas," Bridger said, once Lucas looked about ready to hear what he had to say. "It was not your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. What your parents did to you was wrong. No real parent would push their child to commit suicide. You are worth too much to me, to the world, for you to think you're guilty for what was an accident. Besides," he continued, "Will killing yourself really bring Parker back? All you'll be doing is causing more pain for those who love you. You understand?" 
> 
> Lucas nodded into Bridger's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, voice muffled by Bridger's uniform. 
> 
> "There is nothing you have to be sorry about," Bridger reassured him. "Absolutely nothing." Bridger ran a hand through Lucas' hair. "I love you, Kiddo," he said sincerely. "And losing you over something that happened two years ago, and that you had no control over would tear this entire boat apart." Lucas nodded again. "Why don't you try to get some rest," Bridger suggested. Lucas looked completely exhausted, and on the verge of collapse. 
> 
> "Umm... would you... would you stay with me?" Lucas asked hesitantly. "Just 'till I'm asleep?" Now that Bridger had broken down his barriers, Lucas didn't want to be alone. 
> 
> Bridger nodded. "Of course, Kiddo," he replied, and settled himself on a retro-mod inflatable chair, watching as Lucas climbed into his bunk and closed his eyes. As an afterthought, Bridger thumbed on his PAL and entered Commander Ford's frequency. "Commander?" he said. 
> 
> "Yes, Captain?" Ford's voice answered. 
> 
> "Would you protest too much if I gave you the comm for a few hours?" Bridger asked. 
> 
> "No, Sir," Ford responded quickly, sounding quite pleased. "Thank you, Sir." 
> 
> Bridger flipped off the PAL and settled back into the chair, ready to spend the night. It was the least he could do, after all. Memories were painful things to possess, and Lucas apparently had a slew of them. There was nothing in the world Bridger wanted more than to see Lucas happy, and this was a good first step. _Not too shabby, old man,_ Bridger told himself. _Not at all_.


End file.
